


Black cross

by PerfectStormVirgil



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, NOT ENOUGH FLUFF TO MAKE UP FOR THE ANGST, Sadness, Why Did I Write This?, let them be happy, theyre a little happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 11:39:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13212975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfectStormVirgil/pseuds/PerfectStormVirgil
Summary: Whenever Matt used to talk about how his mother abandoned him, Mello would play with his hair and tell him what an idiot she was for not seeing him as an amazingly gifted child with a heart of gold, how she had to have been crazy to see him as a burden and a waste of space.If he wasn’t a burden on those around him… Why did the blond leave him, with no explanation?





	Black cross

Matt and Mello were fourteen the first time it happened. Mello crossed to Matt’s side of the room at midnight, knowing the gamer was still awake from the small clicks of his handheld game, which was soon turned off and tossed aside when the gamer was suddenly kissed by his best friend. They’d continued for a while, mumbling to each other and kissing quietly. By the time Mello had to return to his bed, Matt was grinning like a dork, his goggles fogged up horribly.

 

From then on, the two overactive teens would often spend as much time together at night as they did in the daytime.

 

When he was fifteen, the redhead entered the room and found Mello’s side of the room empty. It looked like no one was ever there; empty drawers, a cot with nothing on it but a bare mattress, and bare walls. There was only one thing still there, a small black bracelet with a cross dangling from it. The redhead slipped it around his wrist, wondering what he did wrong to have been left in the dust.

Whenever Matt used to talk about how his mother abandoned him, Mello would play with his hair and tell him what an idiot she was for not seeing him as an amazingly gifted child with a heart of gold, how she had to have been crazy to see him as a burden and a waste of space.

If he wasn’t a burden on those around him… Why did the blond leave him, with no explanation, no goodbye? 

 

When the redhead finally found him, it was because of the cold muzzle of a gun against the back of his head. A familiar scent of chocolate and pine filled his senses; a smell that reminded him of cold nights curled in a blanket that wasn’t his, and quiet moments spent clinging tightly to another. As soon as he heard the voice, he was certain.

“You lost, Red? You’re a bit to farther in our territory then you should be, especially for such a shady looking guy. Who are you, and why are you here?”

Matt stayed still, dropping his cigarette to the ground. He’d grown quite a bit, and his hair was now a darker shade of red then it had been when he last saw Mello, not to mention he didn’t look as scrawny as he had, so he understood why he wouldn’t have been recognized right away by the blond, especially from the back. He put his hands up, letting his sleeve fall a bit to expose the ebony colored bracelet. He turned slowly, finding himself face to face with the blond he’d been looking for, only… even more beautiful than he remembered. His wide blue eyes and blond hair were the same, as was the porcelain skin, but he had an almost feminine look to him. His hips were wide and his stomach was flat-not that Matt was looking, mind you- and hugged nicely by the leather he wore. 

 

“... Matt. What are you doing here…?” The Russian muttered, barely audible. The hacker gave an awkward smile and rubbed his neck  
“Ah… looking for you. I-uh… have been for a while, y’know?”

They stared at each other for a minute, before Mello huffed out a laugh.  
“You’re fucking crazy, looking that long” Matt just gave a shrug, fishing a cigarette from his pocket and placing it between his lips as he fidgeted with the Lighter.  
“Tell me something I don’t know Mells.”

He pulled the blond to him and found their lips still fit together perfectly.

 

The bomb had been his.  
When Mello asked him about creating the bomb trigger, the redhead hadn’t given it a second thought before starting to work on it with him. He pulled the blond from the rubble, heart shattering as the badly burned man screamed hoarsely, dehydrated and burned worse than Matt had ever seen, despite the multiple cigarette burns scattering his own arms.  
When he put the blond on the table and started treating the wounds, he could only hope he’d be okay.

 

Matt kissed the blonds scarred cheek, looking at him adoringly. The scar surprisingly didn't take away from his beauty, in fact it made him look more attractive, possibly. It looked… right, in an odd way, like it was meant to be there on the otherwise perfect skin, and Matt certainly loved it. Mello however was still avoiding his reflection, looking away when Matt touched the scars covering the left side of his body, and his instant sour mood whenever the damaged skin was brought up.  
Matt wanted to take away all his doubt and make him see how perfect he was.

 

It was an easy job; kidnap the girl, get the information, and get rid of her. What could go wrong?

So much.

So.

Much.

Matt’s head tilted back, but he wasn’t strong enough to tilt it forward as he felt blood gather in his throat, starting to drown him.  
Good. the seven bullet wounds scattered through his torso and the one in his head caused pain that made him welcome death immensely, especially knowing on the off chance he survived, he’d never be able to bounce back from this damage.  
Besides, as long as Mello was alright, as long as Mello won, he wouldn't mind dying.  
Matt clasped a trembling hand around the cross of the black bracelet.

He’d die for that smile.

 

“Damnit Matt…” Mello’s blood ran cold at the announcement of the shooting. The bloodstained camaro was unmistakable, even littered with bulletholes. Maybe it was the heart attack that made him crash, maybe it was the inability to think.

He couldn’t care less when he opened his eyes to a redhead with a dorky grin, and a gloved hand outstretched to him.


End file.
